ANATOMY OF A GIRL

november 15th, 1808

Location:
Cara'cius, Svet'dmai

Calantha, above all else, craved power. She craved the invincibility — the immortality — it granted her. It was this terrible hunger for power that pushed her to call upon the nightmare children whispered about. She needed the witch's attention, and she couldn't see any other way. She wasn't capable of the same flattery as Nevaeh, the same violence as Caius. She supposed her only weapon was deception, and she was okay with that.

She had heard the covens' bickering, exposing the weaknesses in the system. It was for this reason that she knew her target — and the best chance she had at attaining the power she so craved — lay in Elska, the High Priestess of the Aura coven. The very same coven that praised kindness and generosity above all. Calantha so wished she could learn from another coven, but none would take on apprentices quite so easily, and none were more powerful than the Auras. The High Priestess, and those she'd taught, were the only Witches in the realm capable of using blood magic — a magic Witches and Half-Witches learnt, and were not born with.

It all began to fall in place when she heard whispers of a creature that haunted the witches, frightened them when no others could. She knew she couldn't threaten the High Priestess (directly). She'd also come to the conclusion that she could in no way show her true self to this Witch. Calantha would be scorned, rather than accepted as one of their own.

It began at midnight on the day of the full moon. She dropped her bag to the forest floor, beside the tree she'd searched for relentlessly in the last few days. It was an ancient oak, branches wrapping around its trunk like claws. The book she'd found in the Witches' library had revealed that the forest surrounding Cara'cius was made up of the oldest specimens of oak in the three realms. And unfortunately, she'd been tasked with finding the oldest. It was no easy task, especially with the full moon's approach looming over her.

Calantha leant down, pulling the knife out from within the bag. It was a terrible thing — serrated on one edge and razor sharp on the other. The curve of the blade made it appear as though it was a scythe.

She began with the tree, using the serrated edge of the blade to carve three vertical lines down its bark. The bark had hardened after all the centuries, making her work almost impossible. It seemed that not even the trees wanted this nightmare to be summoned.

It took almost an hour to carve the jagged lines into the tree's flesh. Calantha's arm felt numb. So numb she couldn't feel the blade that was still clenched in her hand. She dropped the knife and leant back against the tree, letting herself fall to the floor. Her hand was as white as a corpse's, but trembling like a hunted rabbit. She could see the indents where she'd held the knife.

She closed her eyes and let her head rest against the bark. It will all be worth it, she told herself, again and again. She looked up at the full moon, peeking out from behind the canopy of leaves. She couldn't wait until the next full moon. It had to be tonight — now.

She reached for her bag, dragging it toward her. From within the bag, she pulled out a vile of dark liquid. It looked like black water to her, but the shopkeeper had called it liquid night. She held the vile in her still hand, the other still shaking sporadically, as she stood once more. She closed her eyes once more and let herself breathe. Soon, her hand had stopped trembling and her head felt less cloudy.

Calantha grabbed the knife off the floor, and before she could reconsider, pulled the cap off the vile and downed the black water. It felt like tar in her throat — heavy and gritty. She turned the sharp edge of the blade against her palm, pressing down until she felt blood pool in her hand and trickle down her wrist. Perhaps just a trick of the night's darkness — or the beginning of something dark awakening — her blood looked darker and thicker.

She knew it was dangerous and foolish beyond measure, but she was desperate. She had no power in a world that was fueled by it.

She only hoped this would be enough to gain the Witch's trust.

She lifted her bloody palm, resting it against the bark of the tree. As the grooves of the bark pressed into the wound, she hissed, crying out in pain. Calantha quieted almost immediately as she watched her blood move up the bark and toward the carvings. Soon, the blood had filled the crevices of the carvings, turning the three lines crimson.

She felt something rush through her like dark electricity, pounding and throbbing. She felt its presence within her, burrowing itself into her chest.

"Attack the High Priestess," she said aloud. "But do not kill her. Once I arrive, feign injury and return to Nyaik."

Yes, master, it whispered, trailing its tongue along the inside of her skull.

And then it was gone.

Minutes later, she found the High Priestess in the centre of the city, trapped beneath the monster. The buildings all around them looked like a cage, closing in around them.

Though she'd told the creature not to kill the Witch, it attacked her with a ferocity that terrified Calantha. It had also injured the Witch greatly in a short period of time. She was bleeding profusely, and it appeared as though the beast moved too fast for her magic, or she was too weak, caught by surprise.

Calantha pulled the knife from her bag once more and ran toward the fight. Elska thrashed beneath the blackened heap of flesh, unable to reach for the knife that had clattered onto the floor and away from her.

As Calantha reached the monster, she held the knife high above her head and brought it down upon it, driving the blade into its back. She tried pulling it out, but the knife remained in its rotting flesh. She stepped back quickly as it turned toward her. In the dark of the night, she hadn't been able to see its face, but as it looked to her, she was not quite so lucky. Its gnarly teeth blinked in the light of the full moon and its claws were wet with the Witch's blood.

As the creature looked down at her, it realised what it had to do. But before it could fade away and return to the dark realm, Elska drove a knife into its thigh.

The blackened creature began to disintegrate, pieces of its flesh crumbling away and falling to the floor with a wet thud. Soon, the knives too clattered to the ground, as the monster was pulled back to its cage.

It was silent between them. Elska looked to her. Calantha couldn't remove her eyes from the matted blood that covered Elska. She felt guilt rush through her like hot water.

A moment later, the High Priestess struggled to her feet. She seemed to be healing herself, as patches of torn skin began to regenerate. Calantha stood next, watching the old woman carefully.

Elska stepped toward Calantha slowly. "What is your name?" She asked carefully.

"Calantha," she replied.

"I am Elska," the woman said, smiling. "You are strong, brave. You saved my life, and I could never repay you. For your kindness, I would like to see if I can help you become stronger. Would you like that?"

Calantha nodded slowly, smiling in a way she hadn't done since she was a toddler.